page of her book, her brows furrowing as she did.
Tori rushed to soften Rose’s sarcasm with a smile in the nanny’s direction. “I’m sure they’ll love the pictures you already have, Beatrice. Really.”
After a momentary hesitation, Beatrice resumed her slow scroll through the photographs she’d snapped thus far, allowing Tori to focus solely on a clearly troubled Rose. “Rose? Is something wrong?”
Rose’s head lolled to the side of the chair, prompting Tori to jump to her feet and bridge the small gap between them in a matter of seconds. “Rose? Rose? Are you okay?”
Lifting her head, Rose closed her eyes and sighed. “If it wasn’t for me, Dixie wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“What are you talking about?” Tori asked as she squatted down beside Rose, took hold of her arm, and checked her pulse.
Rose’s eyes flew open. “I’m not dying, Victoria. I’m—I’m just chastising myself for being a horrible friend and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, is all.”
“I stuck my honker in every bit as much as you did, Rose.” Margaret Louise’s smile slipped from her face.
For the briefest of moments, Tori contemplated reminding the women that she had tried to tell them their meddling in Dixie’s life was a mistake, but let it go. I-told-you-so’s at this point in the game didn’t do anyone any good. Instead, she searched for something that would put Dixie’s dilemma in perspective.
“We’ve been through this already. Pointing fingers at this point takes us off task. The only thing we should be worried about right now is how to get Dixie out of this mess—”
Rose pointed at the book in her hand and began reading aloud. “The reason we see so many singles in the sixty-five and older group is because of a small handful of mistakes they make.”
Tori bobbed her head to the right, instantly recognizing the title and cover that graced Rose’s lap as the elderly woman continued reading. “‘Those who refuse to change their patterns and never leave their homes remain lonely. Those who take a chance and attend a senior singles group, whether online or in person, often undermine their efforts by appearing too needy or too anxious. Some even go to the extreme of making up a persona they believe will further their chances of finding a match only to discover they can’t keep up the farce or that they’ve attracted the wrong sort of mate, bringing on a sense of defeat and a fear of trying again.’”
“That’s exactly what we did, ain’t it?” Margaret Louise moped. “Only instead of just bein’ defeated as Gavin warned, Dixie is defeated, heartbroken, and livin’ a complete nightmare. And it’s all because of us . . .”
Rose’s frail shoulders slumped forward in tandem with Margaret Louise’s robust ones and Beatrice’s diminutive ones, blanketing their corner of the bookstore in the kind of defeat that could be paralyzing if it went unchecked.
Dixie didn’t need paralyzing.
Dixie needed help.
“Obviously you’re not the first ones to make a mistake like this. If you were, Gavin Rollins wouldn’t have a book, now would he?” Tori rose to her feet and looked around the store, the presence of a short, stocky girl behind the counter next to Charles giving her some hope that the start of their search was finally near. “But if you keep bemoaning all your mistakes, you’re not going to be a whole lot of help in finding a solution. So please, stop. Let’s focus on finding the truth, releasing Dixie, and getting back home to Melissa and Georgina and everyone else.”
Beatrice nodded then handed her camera to Tori. “When it comes time to show them this picture, you’ll have to explain it since I was back at the hotel with Rose and Debbie when you took this.”
Tori glanced down at the camera and the shot of John’s street as it looked with yellow crime scene tape blocking access to residents and passersby alike. “If I’d known all the excitement was about
Tori rushed to soften Rose’s sarcasm with a smile in the nanny’s direction. “I’m sure they’ll love the pictures you already have, Beatrice. Really.”
After a momentary hesitation, Beatrice resumed her slow scroll through the photographs she’d snapped thus far, allowing Tori to focus solely on a clearly troubled Rose. “Rose? Is something wrong?”
Rose’s head lolled to the side of the chair, prompting Tori to jump to her feet and bridge the small gap between them in a matter of seconds. “Rose? Rose? Are you okay?”
Lifting her head, Rose closed her eyes and sighed. “If it wasn’t for me, Dixie wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“What are you talking about?” Tori asked as she squatted down beside Rose, took hold of her arm, and checked her pulse.
Rose’s eyes flew open. “I’m not dying, Victoria. I’m—I’m just chastising myself for being a horrible friend and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, is all.”
“I stuck my honker in every bit as much as you did, Rose.” Margaret Louise’s smile slipped from her face.
For the briefest of moments, Tori contemplated reminding the women that she had tried to tell them their meddling in Dixie’s life was a mistake, but let it go. I-told-you-so’s at this point in the game didn’t do anyone any good. Instead, she searched for something that would put Dixie’s dilemma in perspective.
“We’ve been through this already. Pointing fingers at this point takes us off task. The only thing we should be worried about right now is how to get Dixie out of this mess—”
Rose pointed at the book in her hand and began reading aloud. “The reason we see so many singles in the sixty-five and older group is because of a small handful of mistakes they make.”
Tori bobbed her head to the right, instantly recognizing the title and cover that graced Rose’s lap as the elderly woman continued reading. “‘Those who refuse to change their patterns and never leave their homes remain lonely. Those who take a chance and attend a senior singles group, whether online or in person, often undermine their efforts by appearing too needy or too anxious. Some even go to the extreme of making up a persona they believe will further their chances of finding a match only to discover they can’t keep up the farce or that they’ve attracted the wrong sort of mate, bringing on a sense of defeat and a fear of trying again.’”
“That’s exactly what we did, ain’t it?” Margaret Louise moped. “Only instead of just bein’ defeated as Gavin warned, Dixie is defeated, heartbroken, and livin’ a complete nightmare. And it’s all because of us . . .”
Rose’s frail shoulders slumped forward in tandem with Margaret Louise’s robust ones and Beatrice’s diminutive ones, blanketing their corner of the bookstore in the kind of defeat that could be paralyzing if it went unchecked.
Dixie didn’t need paralyzing.
Dixie needed help.
“Obviously you’re not the first ones to make a mistake like this. If you were, Gavin Rollins wouldn’t have a book, now would he?” Tori rose to her feet and looked around the store, the presence of a short, stocky girl behind the counter next to Charles giving her some hope that the start of their search was finally near. “But if you keep bemoaning all your mistakes, you’re not going to be a whole lot of help in finding a solution. So please, stop. Let’s focus on finding the truth, releasing Dixie, and getting back home to Melissa and Georgina and everyone else.”
Beatrice nodded then handed her camera to Tori. “When it comes time to show them this picture, you’ll have to explain it since I was back at the hotel with Rose and Debbie when you took this.”
Tori glanced down at the camera and the shot of John’s street as it looked with yellow crime scene tape blocking access to residents and passersby alike. “If I’d known all the excitement was about
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